Havering High School
by genevevewrites
Summary: A modern day Tudors story.  Henry and Katherine: the high school sweethearts meant to be But when a French transfer enrolls at Havering High School, suddenly school becomes more exciting.
1. Chapter 1

Modern day Tudors? Is it possible? Even more specifically, _high school_, modern day Tudors. I'm going to attempt it. There is a very high possibility it will fail. But anything is worth a try, right? I need feedback from anybody who likes it so I know if I should continue this! Please review.

Premise: Henry VIII is a junior at Havering High School. Of course, he is the athletic, beautiful superstar that everybody worships.

Let's give him a little background: his parents are wealthy English aristocracy (Not King and Queen, I'm trying to keep things realistic), he is quarterback of the undefeated football team (cliché, I know), and he has had a brilliant girlfriend of three years, Katherine of Aragon, who is in the middle of her senior year (I want to maintain the fact that she is older than Henry).

So, yay or nay? Should I attempt this? Suggestions? Feedback please ?


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for all of the encouragement for this story! This first chapter is just a short, hastily written introduction to the setting and Henry. Please review!_

"Damn it, Henry! You have to stop hogging the ball!" Coach Tallis had his star striker by the collar. His face was beet red and spit was shooting out of his mouth.

The stadium was roaring behind him. It was the biggest game of the year; Havering vs. Greenwich. Coach Tallis had screamed for a time-out when Henry had taken it upon himself to be the entire team. Henry was breathing hard out of frustration, not exhaustion. His muscles were tense under the silk of his uniform.

"I've already scored two goals, _Coach_," He spat, glancing around the huddle of his fellow teammates. They all had their heads bent, unable to meet the eyes of either their captain or their coach.

A loud whistle from a referee interrupted their meeting. The game was back in play.

Henry jogged out onto the freshly cut grass of the soccer arena, illuminated by towering stadium lights. The opposing team's striker was dribbling the ball between his cleats, searching for a teammate to pass it to. Havering had every player covered, allowing for no possible passes. Henry bolted towards him and made a swift kick at the ball, stealing it away. The stadium erupted.

Henry expertly balanced the ball between his feet while galloping towards the opposing team's goal. The goalie looked impossibly nervous. Henry had already scored on him twice in the first half of the match.

"Over here!" Charles Brandon, Havering's center, called out. He was completely open because all of Greenwich's team was barreling after Henry.

He ignored the cry of his friend and kept a steady, break neck, pace towards the goal. As he was three yards away from the net, Greenwich's winger was gaining ground on him. Henry struck the ball with huge force, knowing the winger would soon be upon him. The ball soared past the goalie and slammed into the net. The entire student body of Havering screamed and shook their supportive signs.

Henry turned towards them and raised his arms. They only shrieked louder. But as Henry was reveling in his moment of victory, the winger was still spurting towards him. He tackled Henry and slammed his face into the turf, giving him a mouthful of dirt and grass. The entire arena fell silent.

Henry reared up and grabbed the winger, whose name was Willton, and proceeded striking him in the face. The referees and coaches were blowing their whistles, frantically trying to break up the brawl, but the players paid them no heed. The remaining players of both teams trotted over to witness the fight.

Henry held Willton by the neck and pounded his face with his fists. Blood began to pour out of the winger's nose. Willton then raised his free arm and collided his fists into Henry's ribcage and occasionally connected his knuckles to Henry's face. This choreography of brutality continued for a full two minutes. By the time they were broken up, blood was cascading from their mouths, noses, and open skin wounds.

"You fucking bastard!" Henry roared, struggling against the containing arms of Coach Tallis. He spit out a mouthful of blood onto the field. He was furious. Coach Tallis had a strict policy against fighting; anyone engaged in one would be benched for the rest of the game. So, Henry was sentenced to the confines of the sideline.

He ripped off his torn jersey and paced up and down the line. His muscles and abs were glistening with sweat and blood. The anger coursing through his blood gave him the look of a wild lion, pacing in a cage. The dark bruises decorating his eyes made the blue color shine magnificently. Medical advisors were rushing towards him to clean him up, yet he only growled at them and pushed them away.

The cheerleaders standing near the crowd watched their star in a trance. In fact, every female had their eyes glued to him, paying no attention to the game.

Havering won in the end. The team filed into the locker room and Henry endured a verbal beating from Coach Tallis after the rest of the team had left.

Once the stadium was cleared out and everybody was long gone, Henry limped out of the locker room clad in a pair of sweatpants and baggy sweatshirt. There was a lone car in the parking lot with the headlights still on. Catherine, Henry's three year girlfriend, was waiting in the driver's seat. He slid into the seat next to her, not saying a word. He was still upset about the mid-game fight.

"Hi," Catherine whispered, very aware of his anger. She had received many text messages about the brawl. Her eyes raked in his many injuries. Silently, she urged the car forward and drove him back to his expansive estate, adorning Windsor Castle. His parents were the highest aristocracy, aside from the Royal family. Her father was a Spanish aristocrat who had to move his entire family to England at the beginning of Catherine's freshman year of high school to negotiate peace between his country and England. Unfortunately, peace still had not been reached between the two countries, so her family remained.

Henry had taken Catherine under his wing during his Freshman year and her Sophomore year. She was the lovely foreign girl who looked like she was suffocating in English air. Henry's father mentioned her at the dinner table one night three months into the school year. He had met her father in a conference on the country's international affairs and the two had hit it off immediately. Over a mouthful of steak, his father had suggested that Henry talk to her in school. They had been inseparable ever since.

The tires of Catherine's car crunched over the gravel of the carriage driveway adorning Henry's home. Everything was pitch black excluding a dull golden light peeking out of a second story window. Henry's parent's window, to be exact.

"It looks like they waited up for you," Catherine whispered, glancing over at the fuming tiger in her passenger seat.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He slammed the door and jogged up the stairs into his home. Without a word to his parents, Henry showered, addressed his wounds, and settled into bed. Before dosing off, he decided to check in on his Facebook to see if there was any news on his altercation.

Henry expected his news feed to be flooded with dramatic exclamations on the night's game, however it was swamped with entirely different news.

**Tory Cramer:** Soooo there's a new girl from France coming tomorrow? I bet the boys are excited ;)

**Andrew Windhelm:** I LOVE FOREIGN GIRLS! BRING IT ON FRANCE!

**Pippa Ashton:** who is this new girl?

**Hannah White: **she btter not be pretty -.-

Too frustrated with the lack of updates on himself, Henry closed the laptop and clicked off his lights. He had more important things to worry about than a new student.

AN: I am just getting my feet wet with this story. There is SO much to come. I hope you review and keep reading!


	3. Chapter 3

_Please Review!_

Katherine crammed her fat chemistry binder into the slim space remaining in her locker. She sighed with relief as it squeezed in. After a final zip to close her stylish bookbag, she closed the locker and made her way down the crowded hallways. Henry was about to begin soccer practice and she wanted to sneak in a word within him before his mind was locked into the game.

People stopped to admire her black skinny jeans and silky indigo blouse as she arrived in the school courtyard. She tilted her head and smiled at everyone and took a seat on the vacant bleachers. "Damn," she muttered under her breath. Henry was already engaged in warm-ups. His shirt was off, leaving him clad in only athletic shorts. His muscles rippled and tensed as he began a set of push-ups.

Katherine couldn't help but notice the cheerleader's eyes tracing the outline of her boyfriend. They too practiced on the courtyard. Her stomach turned at the sight of them. The heaviest cheerleader was 130 pounds at the most. All of them had shimmery ponytails and wore only sports bras and teensy hot pink shorts. Katherine looked down at her chewed up fingernails and denim covered thighs. She hated her thighs. Self-consciously, she crossed her legs and searched the preppy females for a human looking one to make herself feel _somewhat_ normal.

Perfect blond. Perfect blond. Perfect blond. Huge breasted perfect blond. Short brunette. Tall brunette. Katherine's eyes checked themselves. Brunettes? The cheer squad was known for being purebred blonde. She craned her neck to get a better look. These two females were completely unfamiliar to her, yet equally as threatening as the blond robots.

The shorter of the two had shoulder-length chestnut hair that she stroked constantly. Her back was turned to the bleachers, so Katherine could not sneak a thorough enough look at her. However, the taller female she could see in full view. She had stunning legs: long, defined, tan. Her hair was such a dark black it almost looked blue. And her face, her face was magnetizing. Naturally arched eyebrows, alluring dark eyes, full pouting lips. Her neck was elegantly lengthy and she used it to her full advantage. For one terrifying moment, the mystery girl flicked her eyes to Katherine, making direct eye contact. Embarrassed, Katherine looked away and blushed a deep pink. A few moments passed before she dared return her gaze back to the girl, but by then she had turned and engaged in stretching. The back of her T-shirt was emblazoned with a name: Boleyn.

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Henry dug his car keys out of the pocket of his jeans and unlocked the door of his black Mercedes.

"Hey, toss me the keys. I'll start the car," said Charles Brandon as he swung into the passenger seat. Absently, Henry tossed him the wad of metal keys. Before he could blink, Charles had mischievously locked the doors, barring Henry out. He laughed and banged on the window at the rogue who was tuning the radio to his favorite station, the one station Henry happened to hate. Running his hands through his messy, post-soccer hair, Henry looked around the parking lot for a reprieve. Or at least something to distract Charles with.

Two cars away, a female was unlocking her silver Cadillac and texting simultaneously. Henry did not recognize her from around school. She was small, short even. The small stature made her cute, cute enough to talk to. Henry jogged over to her car, flipping Charles the finger as he passed his window. The girl looked up as he approached, batting her wide blue eyes in confusion.

"Who are you?" Henry questioned with no preamble. He gave her appearance a once over, pleased with what he saw. The girl grinned at his forwardness and shrugged.

"Mary Boleyn," She crossed her arms and returned his once over. "And you are Henry Tudor. The star striker."

"My reputation precedes me," Henry smiled, pleased. He took in her cheerleading ensemble and expensive car. "Why haven't I heard of you?"

"I am from Paris. My family travels often," Her voice had a neat English lilt, signifying she was raised in England.

"Well, _bonjour_, Mary," Henry said with a low bow. Mary laughed at his exaggerated greeting. She couldn't help but notice his obvious good looks and charm.

"That's about all the French I know. My sister is the fluent one," She admitted, flipping a lock of hair over one shoulder.

"Oh, so there's a sister? I wonder if she's as pretty as you," Henry flashed her an easy smile, completely confident in himself. Mary giggled and it sounded like bells.

"She should be here any moment if you want to meet-"

"Hey Romeo! Let's go!" Charles Brandon shouted from the confines of his car. He was bored of watching his friend charming the panties off of this girl.

Henry offered an apologetic smile. "I'd love your number." She typed the seven digits into his phone and watched as he hurried back to his car. The black sports vehicle raced down the road, leaving a cloud of exhaust behind.

"And _who_ was that?" Anne's boots made a hollow click on the pavement as she approached their car. She had insisted on changing out of her cheer clothes before they went home.

Mary rolled her eyes and opened the passenger door. "Oh, leave it Anne." She knew that her nauseatingly ambitious sister would jump on a chance to talk to their new school's most popular student. That was the whole reason they joined the cheer squad their first week, as a stepping stone to climb the social ladder. Anne had a priceless gift of rising to the top of every social hiatus at all of the ten schools they had attended in their lives. She was a year older than Mary and flaunted it in her face constantly.

Instead of pressing her sister about her afternoon rendezvous with mystery boy, she shrugged noncommittally.

"Fine. I'll find out on my own."

_Please review!_


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